Warcraft: Blood and Water
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Jaina may have been bound to Kul Tiras by blood, but plenty of water separated from her from her homeland. Water that would once again know the taste of blood, as war once again erupted between the Horde and Alliance.


**Blood and Water**

"With the blessings of the sea, this ship shall walk your waves. By the grace of the sea, this ship shall remain above its depths. By the mercy of the sea, this ship will always return to land. By the fury of the sea, this ship will send its foes to meet the depths' embrace."

Jaina smirked as the sea priests finished their ceremony. It was the same incantation for all ships made in Kul Tiras, albeit with small variations depending on the ship in question. In this case, _Daelin's Pride_ was a battleship – the first to be constructed in Kul Tiras for the sake of continuing the Alliance's war against the Horde. The same Alliance that her homeland had rejoined after over a decade of absence. It had taken time and effort on her part, and on the parts of various adventurers that had righted the wrongs that beset the island, but now, at last, the Alliance was whole. Or as whole as it could ever be. Alterac was long destroyed. Lordaeron, even after it was reclaimed, would still be a wasteland. Stromgarde was a broken shell of its old glory, and Quel'Thalas was in the hands of elves who had thrown in their lot with the Horde. No, Jaina reflected. The Alliance of the current day would never be the same as that which had been formed at the onset of the Second War. But it wouldn't have to be. All it had to be was strong enough to claim victory in this war. A victory so complete that the Horde would never rise again.

A victory so final that finally, she could look in the eye of the statue of her father in Stormwind, and say that she'd finished what she'd started.

"A fine ship."

She remained standing at the dock. The words of her companion were genuine, but she doubted that her mother was saying them just to comment that, indeed, _Daelin's Pride_ was a fine ship. Just like every other ship built here.

"You can carry word to the boy king that he can expect his first fleet within the month," Katherine Proudmoore said. "I've already drawn up plans with the great houses and envoys. We can assault Zandalar as soon as the armada is ready."

"And not sooner?" Jaina asked.

"So reckless? What happened to the girl who always looked before she leaped?"

 _She grew up,_ Jaina reflected. She looked at her mother – Katherine Proudmoore was old. Not so old that she couldn't hold her cutlass, but old enough to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. A weight that Jaina knew all too well. Weight that included the knowledge that she was far past child-bearing age, and that all she had left was a daughter who hadn't been to her homeland since the Third War, and a son who was better playing with ships in the pond rather than sailing them on the Great Sea.

"Times change, I see," Katherine continued. She gestured to the battleship – the sea priests were heading back over the dock, but its crew was getting onto the boat.

"How so?" Jaina asked.

"This new Alliance," she continued. "Oh, I remember back in the day, how dwarves, gnomes, and even elves came here. Not so much these new creatures."

Jaina followed her mother's gaze – draenei, worgen, even a pandaren or two. War made strange bedfellows, as the saying went. Jaina wondered if the person who'd come up with that setting had any idea of the existence of Kalimdor, or the Burning Legion, or Pandaria, or any of the other thousand things that had thrilled and terrified her over the course of her life. Far as she was concerned, she'd sleep with a goblin if that goblin could be turned over to her side as a reward.

"The sea priests," Katherine said. "I always wondered about them, blessing warships."

Jaina looked at her. "How so?"

Katherine let out a hollow laugh. "What is the purpose of a warship other than to spill blood upon the seas? The sea priests bless the ship with the sea's water, but what good is that to a ship that will be drenched in blood by its service's end?"

"Blood and water," Jaina said. "The constants of a navy." Her mother looked at her. "Yes, I did pay attention to some of father's lessons. Not every single book I read was in the ways of magic."

"Hmm. And which books did you read at Theramore?"

Jaina winced. She knew this would come up. Someday, some hour, Katherine Proudmoore, Regent Admiral of Kul Tiras, Wife of Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, the Iron Lady of Kul Tiras, would want to know exactly what had happened to her husband all those years ago. And, more importantly, what her daughter had been doing.

"Mother…" Jaina began.

"In time my dear, in time," Katherine said. She turned and walked down the dock.

"Mother-"

"You are my daughter, and the most gifted mage the Kirin Tor, nay, humanity, has ever produced," Katherine said, stopping and looking back. "For that, you have my love and respect. For this war, you shall have my allegiance. But if half of what I've heard of your action, or lack of it at Theramore is true…then you shall never have my forgiveness. And you shall never have my throne."

Jaina's eyes narrowed. "I don't want the throne, mother."

"Good. Because from what I understand, you led one nation to ruin, and by the sea, I shan't let you ruin mine."

"And Tandred?" she asked. "Do you think he can follow in father's footsteps?"

She didn't bring up Derek. Even before she'd left for Dalaran, she knew to never bring up Derek with her mother. Let alone rumours of Finnall Goldensword…

"Time will tell," Katherine murmured. "Time will tell." She gave a small nod. "Go fight your war Jaina. I'll fight mine."

And with that she walked off. Leaving Jaina on the edge of land and sea. Torn between a home she could no longer call home, and an ocean of war from which there would be no respite. She could avenge Theramore. Avenge her father. Yet never find forgiveness, whether it be from her mother, or from her own soul.

So she stood there. Looking out to the sea. At the evening tide, that heralded the darkness.

Wondering how much blood would fill the sea by the war's end.


End file.
